When It Rains
by kasviel
Summary: Slash Angel/Wesley. Third story of the "No Strings" series. Between jealousy over Faith and a brush with death, Wes knows his affair with Angel must soon end. Can he break it off? And why is it so much harder than he expected, if it's just sex?


**Author's Notes: **Well, this fandom has come along better than I expected it to! I like the characters, and I feel easier writing them now (at least Wesley and Angel). Writing Wes was what started it, as I understand him completely; I did soften him a bit in the previous stories, but it was for the story's sake. I do that often with my main characters. Why? Because I am emo and go for that soap opera drama of the tears and the fighting and the sex. Tawdry, perhaps, but I'm only a fan writer, so try not to take it too seriously ;-) Wes is not your most stable/strong character, besides, so it wasn't too much a stretch, just IMHO.

This is the third story of the collection I'm calling the "No Strings" series. If I write more than two pages of anything, it's a series, hahaha. The first story is "Recompense" and the second "Sadist's Night", both are already published here. All involve a behind-the-scenes, "no strings" sex affair between Angel and Wesley. It wraps up here, as I take the pair right to the end of the first TV season. Remember, after that last episode, Angel began dream-sleeping with Darla, and Wes was out dating with renewed confidence in himself (well, some, anyway), so the relationship, I think, would have to have broken off before then. This is also the end of "very weak Wesley", at least for the moment, and notes Angel's thoughts on his change, and each man's feelings about ending the supposedly meaningless affair.

The "No Strings" story might go on later, though, if it fits in anywhere during the TV series. I'd like to keep it pseudo-canon, bordering on being believable. I've done the same with _General Hospital _at times, it just makes me glad to be able to fit something in off-camera for TV writing. Keep in mind I am watching the entire _Angel _series now, as I came into the fandom, er . . . rather late, wouldn't you say ^^ ? So please do forgive unfamiliarity with characters, awkwardness, wrongful plot assumptions, etc. I'm always doing things backwards or too early/late. It's why I dress so out of style :3

Thank you for taking the time to read, as always, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**When It Rains**

_And when it rains on this side of town  
It touches everything  
Just say it again and mean it  
We don't miss a thing  
You made yourself a bed at the bottom  
of the blackest hole  
and convinced yourself  
that it's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore_

"I could have sworn they said it never rains in California."

Cordelia Chase looked up from her desk, where she had been brushing her hair, and gave Wesley a sympathetic smile. "I know," she agreed, "I'm totally going to sue . . . someone."

"The weather? The state? The Powers That Be?" Wes asked, putting down the newspaper he had used (unsuccessfully) to keep his head dry. He shook water from his damp white shirt and began to dry off with some napkins from the coffee table. "Regardless of what people think, the weather is actually a largely random thing."

"It still sucks," Cordy sighed.

Wes made a face of agreement, and poured himself some hot coffee. He sat down on the small waiting bench with his mug and a doughnut, eating thoughtfully. It had been about a week since the rogue Slayer Faith had torn through Angel's territory, nearly murdering him, Wes, and Cordelia in her violent wake. The physical bruises and gashes had started to heal up on Wesley and Cordelia, and completely healed on the vampire Angel, but the emotional scars of the sides taken and the things said between them all had not. Wesley had no problem with Angel, having gone against his own desire to see Faith dead to let Angel decide her fate, and Cordelia stayed out of it for the most part, but Angel had been through a bitter turn with his ex-girlfriend, the Slayer Buffy, and it was wearing on him. He was not even in the room this morning, and Wesley had not seen him in the office more than three times during the week. The episode had taken its toll, though he would never admit it out loud.

Wesley frowned a little. _He never admits anything out loud, does he?_ he wondered, staring at his half-eaten doughnut. _Whatever pain he's feeling stays locked away inside until it fades enough to stop showing on the surface. I've done that, I know how it is: like slow torture. Just because the pain doesn't show on the surface doesn't mean it hurts any less. In fact, it hurts all the more. It stays there, festering, darkening . . . and that's in a human like me, with all my petty couple decades of age. Imagine a vampire's heart, his soul . . . what must it be like? I can't even pretend to fathom it, even with my own mental turmoil._

"Where's Angel?" Wes asked softly, though he knew the answer.

"In his apartment, I guess," Cordelia said. "You know how he's been, since socking Buffy and all that. I can't believe he socked _Buffy_," she added, tone a blend of surprise, sympathy, and amusement.

"Buffy socked _him_," Wesley reminded her.

"Yeah, but, still, they were so close, and now . . . " Cordelia trailed off, her brown eyes lifting to the window. "Hmm," she sighed, "kind of funny, huh? How things can change so much? You know, between people?"

"I don't think the core of things ever really change that much."

Cordelia shook her head. "No, things have definitely changed between Angel and Buffy, on a core level. A hardcore level." She drew the shade up a little, peering out at the rain in disdainful fascination. "It's like this city."

Wesley looked baffled. "This city?"

"Uh huh," Cordelia said, looking back at him with a smile. "Like, it's an ugly city. Everyone is totally shallow and out for themselves, the crime is terrible, and it's full of all this awful supernatural stuff to boot. But just yesterday, it looked like paradise: the sun was shining, the beaches were warm, the actors and actresses and pretty people were out and shopping for nice, expensive things. Today, though, it's as ugly as it is. Like Angel and Buffy."

Wesley sorted through her words in his mind to try and find the truth he thought might be there. He stood, coming around to the desk and following her gaze out the window. "But, Cordelia," he finally said, "that _is_ the surface of things. The sunshine, the rain, it's superficial. They don't change that ugly core."

"Oh." Cordelia frowned. "Oh yeah, you're right."

Wesley sighed.

"Don't give me that look! I don't just see the surface of things!" Cordelia pouted, looking up at him angrily. "I am deep."

Wesley gave her a pained smile.

"Anyway, maybe the core is still sunshine-happy, but it's raining for those two on the surface. Raining hard."

"Can't argue with that."

"Anyway, all this doom and gloom is getting to me," Cordelia said. "Rrgh! I'm going to shop."

"You have the money to shop?"

"My core is broke, but I can window-shop on the surface," Cordelia replied, getting her purse. "Are you going to be okay here all by yourself? Wanna come?"

Wes shook his head. "No thanks. I have some things to, er, study."

"Suit yourself, bookworm," Cordy said cheerfully.

She left. Without the chatter, the heavy silence of the office cut the atmosphere like a knife. The steady patter of the rain only sounded like a commanding shush over the building. Immediately, Wesley regretted his decision.

_At least shopping, I would be bored, but distracted,_ Wesley thought. _I stayed here to do something, but I'm not sure I will. I don't think I . . . can._

Wes went to the small room of files and books. He idly began organizing the books, going through the things in his bag, under the pretense of wanting to be prepared in the event that they got a new case.

Angel and Wesley had been sexually involved for a little while by now. Theirs was no great love story or affair, just the simple act of being there for one another. It had began by accident, continued by Wesley's breaking his promise of not expecting anything more, and become a small part of their lives. Both men were predominantly heterosexual, but neither was close-minded, and they had each been alone for a while longer than they were comfortable with. It was a natural, organic string of events that kept them together, and by now the affair was a familiar comfort in Wes' otherwise empty personal life.

_Friends with benefits,_ Wesley thought with a small, quiet smile. _He's been there for me time and again. Now he's hurting, and I want to be there for him, but I . . . I don't feel I have the right. I was needy and it showed, so Angel wasn't overstepping by comforting me, and I actually was the one who took the initiative and made it sexual._

_Funny, that's one of the first things in my life I have taken the initiative for. I'm not going to dwell on the significance of that. (Not gay. I am not gay.)  
_

_The point is, I was open about being needy, whereas Angel makes it quite clear that he neither needs nor wants comfort, love, or support. He's comfortable being the strong one, that's just fine, but when it comes to letting someone in and give him strength, that's another story._

Wesley sighed, collapsing on a chair. He rubbed his face with a hand, then turned to stare out the window at the rainy day. _I know that by theory and hypothesis, not experience. Truth be told, I haven't even tried to be there for him through all this. Not a single word or gesture. He might not appreciate it or even like it, but I should at least try._

_That's why I stayed, isn't it?_

Wesley stood up determinedly. He left the offices, and headed down to the apartment beneath. He had hoped Angel would be in the hall or something, to save him the trouble of knocking, but he wasn't. Wes went to knock, hesitated, went to leave, and then tracked back to the door. Telling himself that he was being ridiculous, he finally rapped several times on the door, quite loudly at that.

No answer.

Wes knocked several more times, to the same non-response. He considered Angel having left, but knew there was no case to work on, and that Angel would not venture out idly during the day. A bit annoyed, he knocked commandingly for a good five minutes.

"Yeah, yeah!" The door swung open, revealing Angel's grumpy face. "What do you-- Oh, it's you."

Wes' cheek twitched. "Yes it is."

Angel rubbed the back of his neck. "A case?"

"No, not a case," Wesley replied.

Angel looked at him expectantly, and Wesley felt foolish.

"I just wondered if you were all right."

"Uh, why wouldn't I be?"

"I-I don't know."

Angel leaned on the door frame. "It's day, I was sleeping," he said. "I always try to catch some rest in the day, you know that."

"Yes."

"Then why are you worried?"

"I'm not," Wesley said, face burning. "I just . . . I'm going-- going out, shopping, and I thought you should know the office is going to be untended."

"S'okay," shrugged Angel. "We have the answering machine, and it's the weekend, anyway."

"Right."

"Right."

An awkward silence passed. Wes didn't catch it, but an amused light came into Angel's eyes. He could smell human emotion, sense it, and he knew Wesley's reasons for coming. It might have been a little mean to let him suffer this way, but he was intrigued by the man's inability to voice his emotions. They had been sleeping together a little while now, why would he be afraid?

"Well, going--"

"Hold on, Wes."

Angel grabbed him by the shirt lightly and pulled him on into the apartment. "Sit," he told Wes, who immediately sat on the sofa. He went to the refrigerator and got him a beer, handing it down to him. "Here."

" . . . I really was going shopping," Wes tried to defend himself. Upon being met with a disbelieving smile from Angel, he bowed his head and admitted, "Cordelia went shopping. I stayed here because I thought you might want to talk, or need a friend."

"That's . . . nice, Wes, but I'm fine."

Wesley looked up at him. "Are you?"

Angel nodded.

"How would I even know?" Wesley asked wistfully, staring at the bottle in his hands. He set it down on a side table and got to his feet. "Angel, if you did need a friend, or comfort, anything, would you even tell me?"

Angel avoided his gaze. "Sure."

"No you wouldn't, don't lie to me," Wesley said with a frown. "Angel, don't shut me out."

"Look, Wes, I understand you and Cordelia worry about me," Angel said. "I appreciate it, I really do, but I've been through a hell of a lot worse than anything I've faced in LA so far. When I say I'm fine, you have to trust me."

Wes didn't look convinced.

"If something was bothering me, I would talk about it."

Angel was heading to his bedroom, when Wes said, "The way you talked about Doyle's death, is that it?"

The vampire froze, and Wesley saw his body tighten, tense. It would have been safer to let it go, but Wes was determined to make his point.

"You were so unworried about it that you actually spanked me the moment I came close to meeting his fate."

Angel turned back to him. "You admitted you deserved that."

"I did," Wes nodded, "but you were the first to admit it **was** an overreaction."

Angel smiled a bit evilly at him. "_Was_ it?"

Wes blushed, but did not back down. "Of course it was!" he exclaimed. "Anyway, that isn't the point! You're trying to distract me. Don't you see that's the entire problem?" He came over to Angel, reaching for his face; Angel moved his head out of reach. "You're fine being the hero for others, but you won't let anyone help you. You won't let me in," Wesley sighed. "You take care of everyone, save everyone, but . . . Who cares for you, Angel? And who will save you?"

Wes touched his shoulder, and Angel went rigid.

"Why does it bother you?" Wes asked, wincing back.

Angel caught his arm by the wrist. "It isn't about you, Wes," he said, grip softening to rub the man's wrist over the pulse point. "I've never been the kind to rely on anyone but myself."

"Because you think it's weak."

"No, I just . . . " Angel exhaled, and dropped Wes' wrist. He looked at a loss for words, so he just shrugged.

"You just have a double standard," Wesley said. "You broke me down. You forced me to face whatever problems were between us. You made me cry."

"Poor baby," Angel mumbled cynically, moving past him on his way to the sofa. "You want me to cry? Is that it?"

"I'm not out to hurt you, Angel. But I can't even mention _your_ feelings?" Wes asked angrily. "I can't even ask a single question?"

"You asked, Wes!" Angel exclaimed in exasperation. "You asked if I was okay, I said I am. I am! Just drop it, would you?"

"No!"

"Why?"

"Because you're lying!" Wesley insisted, sitting on the sofa beside the man. "You aren't fine. You've barely said two words since Buffy left!"

Angel rubbed his temple.

"Or is it . . . since Faith left?" Wes asked, an idea suddenly dawning on him. He moved back from Angel on the sofa, leaning on the arm, and paused for a few moments. "Cordelia assumed you were upset over fighting with Buffy so bitterly, and I simply took that as the logical cause, but . . . maybe this isn't about her at all."

Angel eyed him.

"Maybe it is about Faith." Wes met the man's eyes. "You saw yourself in that girl. You understood her in a way you understand no one, and she could understand you in a way no one else has come close to-- at least, not in a while."

"Wes, don't get all 'Buffy' on me," Angel groaned, rubbing his eyes with a hand. He got off the sofa and paced to the other side of the room, looking at his bedroom door longingly. "I was not in love with Faith. I wasn't even _with_ Faith."

"If only for the lack of a chance to be."

"No! Damn it!" Angel spun around. "Are you _jealous_, Wes?"

Wes opened his mouth to deny it, but found that he couldn't. Mortified, he turned his face. Angel loomed over him. "No expectations, no love, no jealousy-- isn't that what you said?"

" . . . . "

"No strings." Angel sat down next to him and squeezed his shoulder. "Something change, Wesley?"

"No," Wesley said softly, not very convincing. He finally brought himself to meet Angel's eyes for a brief second. "I simply wouldn't want to see you get caught up with Faith. No one should be emotionally involved with that-- woman."

"That woman needed my help and I was there for her," Angel said, his temper beginning to flare. "Just like I was there for Cordy, you, and everyone else I've saved so far. What the hell is your problem with her specifically? Should I just have left her?"

"Maybe you should have," Wes said coldly, meeting his eyes.

"Should have carried out your vengeance for you, is that it?" Angel asked. "Why don't you just admit it? You blame her! You blame her for your dismissal from the Council! You've been using her as the scapegoat for your own incompetence this whole time."

Wesley drew a breath. "This is not about me," he said tensely. "I don't care if you saved her or not, but that's it, it's done. Forget about it. Forget about _her_."

"She's a friend!" Angel snapped, standing. "I don't turn my back on my friends."

"A friend?" Wesley laughed a short, incredulous laugh. "Do you really believe--"

"Yes."

The chilly retort hung on the air for a long moment.

"You're right," Wes finally said softly. He stood up stiffly, keeping his eyes nowhere. "Something has changed."

Angel eyed him. He knew he had hurt the man deeply, but held fast to his words. Faith deserved a friend as much as Wes or anyone else, and she needed him much more than Wes could ever imagine. It was a good thing that Wes couldn't understand that level of uncontrollable pain and need for redemption, but nonetheless, he **could not** understand it.

"I know the boundaries now," Wesley said. "Your life is off limits." He shrugged. "How could I understand it, anyway, right?"

_Bingo, _Angel thought immediately_._ Feeling a little bad, he tried to console the man with a weak, "Wes . . . "

Wesley had pulled in, restraining his feelings to the point of having gone blank. "No, I never could, not like Faith does," he said, a hint of poison seeping into the last few words. "It's fine, Angel. It's . . . fine."

He went to the door, opened it. Angel's arm reached past him and shut it again. Wes did not turn around, though their closeness reddened his face. "I **said**, it's fine, Angel," he said quietly. "I'm not going to cry and cling to you. We never signed on for anything . . . significant. I can respect your limits."

"You won't break down, I know that, but you will be angry."

"I'm not angry," Wesley said honestly. "Just disappointed."

"Why? Because I'm being a good friend to someone other than you and your approved?" Angel turned Wes' face towards his own. "You have to see that you're being biased."

Wes shrugged listlessly. "Perhaps."

"You can't be worried," Angel said. "Faith is in prison, and she's stable. She's getting help, working through herself. Even when she does get out, she isn't going to hurt me or anyone else."

Wesley searched the man's eyes. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"I really do."

"You have faith in her."

The pun dawned on Wes after he said it, and he cracked a self-conscious smile. Their eyes met, and they both laughed. Angel took the opportunity to pull the man closer by the shoulder, and Wes did not fight.

"I suppose I am biased," Wes finally admitted with a sigh when their laughter died down. He leaned his head on the other man's shoulder, exhaling. "It's just like you to want to save the most hopeless."

"If I can do it, anyone can," Angel affirmed. "I don't just believe in second chances, I believe in **making** second chances. My biggest regret is that I never did that, that I had to have the chance forced upon me. That's why I need to see others make the choice themselves. I need to see that not everyone has to be tricked or beaten down into it. It feels good."

"Sort of restores your faith in humanity, does it? Well, I can understand that on some level," Wesley said. He took Angel's hand and tugged him along to the sofa again. "Power. What restores my faith in the world would be . . . well, people like you, actually. Men like you."

They sat down. "How so?" Angel asked.

"I don't have any power, so it's easy to do good," Wesley said. "I'm not strong enough to do anything else. I've never had to make any choices. But I've seen . . . people . . . who do have power. Any kind of power, not just vampire strength or demonic gifts. Power over a mate, a friend . . . a child . . . " Wes cleared his throat. "I just like to see people with that power choosing to use it for good: to make their so-- their significant, love them, instead of . . . of . . . "

"Terrifying them?"

Wes nodded.

"Still your father."

"N-no, no. Anyone," Wes lied. "Take our dear Faith, for example. I didn't only blame her for losing me my-- er, for having a hand in my failure. No, I hated seeing all the power of a Slayer going to destruction. Yes, she had her reasons, but in the end, she made her choices. Her every choice. You wouldn't deny that, would you?"

"No."

"And that kind of choice infuriates me. That's all."

"Ah."

Wes avoided his gaze.

"You're wrong about one thing, though," Angel said. "You do have power, and you have made choices."

Wes made a scornful sound, shaking his head.

"Think about it," Angel said. "All the knowledge you have, especially in demonology. How easy would it be to look up a ritual and summon up a demon?"

"Rather easier than that exorcism I attempted, I would imagine."

"Exactly. But you won't. Every day you might have a reason to want a little physical strength, magical prowess, someone on your side, you've made the choice not to do that," Angel pointed out. "A lot of people, if they knew it were possible, would have chosen otherwise by now."

Wes shrugged. "Summon up a demon," he scoffed. "What would I do with a demon's power?"

"Take out the Council, maybe."

Wes smiled a little. "That would be nice. But no, I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I . . . just couldn't." Wes looked at him with a frown. "Hmm. You have a point."

"Can't you just say I'm right?"

"How did we turn this around to me, anyway?" Wesley asked. "God, Angel, you could get a psychiatrist confessing _their_ childhood traumas to _you_!"

Angel smiled. "It's a little talent I kept from . . . my vampire side."

"Dealing with humans must be merely mundane for you."

Angel stood, tousling Wes' hair. "It never gets old."

"I'll be more direct, then," Wesley said. "You've been buried down here since Faith was incarcerated, and you've barely said more than two words to either myself or Cordelia when you have come up for air. Cordelia told me you were that way when you first got here, that you would spend the day thinking of Buffy, staring at her picture."

"Even here, she won't be happy without some gossip," sighed Angel, reaching into the fridge for a beer.

"I just don't want you to lapse back into that despair, that's all," Wes told him. "As a friend, and selfishly. Those moods are depressing. Look, you've even brought rain to California with your latest bout."

"It's raining?"

"If you would ever get out of here, you would know that."

Angel shut the fridge, opting for water. "All right, you have a point, Wesley."

"Can't you just say I'm right?"

Angel shot him a look, but otherwise ignored the echo. "I've been worried about Faith," he explained. "I just wonder if she's okay, how she's holding up, that's all."

"Go see her."

Angel froze, glass halfway to his lips.

"You do realize you could . . . don't you?"

"Actually, I hadn't thought about it."

"Oh." Wes lay back on the sofa, stretching. "You've been hanging around Cordelia too long."

"I think I will." Angel put down the water and went to get his coat.

Wesley sat up. "Right now?"

Angel nodded.

"Oh. Yes, I think you should." Wes stood up off the couch, though was still stretching his arms. "I'll lock the office up."

"Thanks."

Angel went out the trap door that went into the sewers and was gone. Alone, Wes just stared around the apartment for a moment. _Well, I helped him,_ he told himself. _Mission accomplished, I suppose?_

_So why do I feel worse?_

Wes flopped onto the sofa, groaning softly. _I'm such an idiot. What did I want? Middle-of-the-day sex? Did I expect him to turn his back on a friend in need to fool around with me?_

"I need a girlfriend," Wes told the ceiling. "This is ridiculous already."

* * *

_And when it rains  
You always find an escape  
Just running away  
From all of the ones who love you  
From everything  
You made yourself a bed at the bottom  
Of the blackest hole (blackest hole)  
And you'll sleep till May  
You'll say that you don't want to see the sun anymore_

Feeling slightly dejected, Wesley took himself out. The rain had lightened to a misty drizzle, and it reminded him a little of home. It made for a nice change from the heat, anyway, as the air was cool. He strolled through a park idly, and had soon forgotten to be angry at his aloof employer.

He was just trying to remember what he was angry about, anyway, when he came across a stray poodle. As luck would have it, he caught it before it ran clear out of the park. Its owner came bouncing up after it, turning out to be a pretty redhead. Between Wes' saving her dog and his "Hugh Grant accent" (as so many Californians called it), the two ended up with a date for dinner that night.

Which turned into a stay-in dinner . . .

. . . which became more . . .

She had to leave for her place in the late hours of the night, and Wes walked her to her car. Watching her go, he smiled a little to himself. _I had forgotten what it was like to be with a beautiful, warm woman. I should be grateful to Faith. This was exactly what I needed, but I never would have realized it, being so enamored with Angel, of all people._

He went back up to his flat, thoughtful. _I'll have to tell him. Yes, the next time I see him, I'll tell him. This is what I want. I'll never be able to pursue it if I'm with him, he's too . . . er . . . distracting. It's too easy to fall into that role of the one being taken care of, and to forget ever wanting to be the one taking care. He's strong, handsome . . . easy to let yourself get eclipsed by him and not even mind it. (Not doing much for my argument of not being gay, is it? Ohh, Wesley, how do you get yourself into these situations?)  
_

Inside, Wesley removed his shirt and robe, and began changing the sheets in his bedroom. _I have to end it. I started it, and now I'll have to break it off. Angel will understand. He never really wanted anything from me, anyway. I was the needy one . . . _

A knock on the door tore Wes from a half-sleep an hour later. Grumbling, he got his robe again, and went to the door. "Who's there?"

"Wes? It's me, Angel."

"Angel?" Wes breathed in surprise. He opened the door and surely enough, there was Angel. "Angel."

"Can I come in?"

"Yes, yes."

There was a moment of silence between them. Finally, Wes asked, "How was the visit with Faith?"

"She was fine, much better than I expected," Angel said. "I wanted to thank you for suggesting it. It's a huge worry off my mind."

"Your welcome." Wes paused, shrugged. "Is . . . that why you came?"

"Actually, it's not."

Angel came up to him, an arm sliding around Wes' waist, and leaned into a kiss-- almost. Close to him, he suddenly caught the other scent he had smelled in the apartment: a woman. A woman that Wes had slept with about an hour ago. Angel stopped, giving the man a pondering look.

Wes had no idea Angel could tell he'd had any visitors, so he did not react.

_Not even going to mention it?_ Angel wondered in surprise. _Sneaky boy, aren't you, Wes?_

He kissed Wes hesitantly, and got no resistance. Wes did frown, however, to himself. _I said I'd break it off, didn't I? Tell him I can't lose myself in him. Tell him we can't do this._

"Mmmph . . . "

_Next time, I swear. Next time I see him._

They fell onto the sofa, and Wes laughed as Angel lightly nibbled his neck. His plans went out the window, and he found himself yet again enraptured with his vampire friend. Angel was giving him a very bemused look, but he didn't know or really care why. All he cared about was that touch; how could the man have such a flitting, fast touch while being so strong? The vampire speed, senses, perhaps? Angel's fingers ran down his chest, tongue following, and he threw Wes' robe across the room.

_I still smell her on him._

Angel suddenly lifted Wes off the sofa and half-dragged, half-led him to the bedroom. _Good thing I changed the sheets,_ Wes thought with a sly smile.

Angel was surveying the man with a strange look. This time, Wes caught it, and gave him an inquisitive frown back. Angel decided now was not the moment, and instead of saying anything, he lay him down on the bed. Climbing over him, only in his slacks now, Angel began to tie his wrists to the iron headboard with his belt.

"Oh, you're--" Wes writhed a little. It always made him just a little nervous to be helpless around the vampire; memories of Angelus could not help but seep in. That 'fine line' Angel walked had nearly cracked at some points, and Wes never wanted to be tied up if it ever did again.

"I thought you enjoyed it, Wes?"

"I-- mm!" Wes cringed as Angel's palm smacked down on his bottom. "I do, it's just . . . " he said weakly.

Angel's face came close, and he licked Wes' ear. "Don't you trust me, Wesley?"

"Y-y-yes."

"You little liar."

Angel's hand was playing dangerously close to Wes' backside, and Wes started getting more than a little nervous. _He seems almost angry, or . . . teasing? I can't tell,_ he thought worriedly. _That slap was quite hard._

"Don't hit me."

Angel raised his eyebrows. "What?"

Wes looked at him seriously. "Don't _hit_ me."

"You're kind of commanding tonight, huh?"

Wes turned his face, saying nothing.

"I'm not going to hit you," Angel assured him, giving his cheek a kiss. "I was just playing."

Angel waited a while, undressing the man slowly. Wes had shuddered into blissful compliance, when Angel finally decided to let him have it. "What was her name?"

"Mmmmmm . . . whose name?" Wes asked absently.

Angel murmured into his ear, "The girl who you slept with for some hours earlier tonight."

Wes' eyes went wide, and he gaped at the man. Angel laughed loudly.

"Y-you, how did you--"

"I'm a vampire, you can't hide that stuff from me," Angel replied. He was straddled over Wes' legs, effectively trapping him completely. With a grin, he crossed his arms. "Who was she?"

"J-just a woman I met in the . . . " Wes had to think for a long moment before he even remembered. "In the park."

"And you were just going to keep it to yourself, weren't you?" Angel said, enjoying needling him.

"Yes, I was," Wes said, completely unabashed. "I don't see how it would be any of your business, no offense."

Angel smiled a little. _He's changed. Not only because of that girl, either. It's been happening slowly since he took up with the investigations. He's stronger._

_I'm proud of him. Still gonna give him hell, though._

"Not even as a friend do I deserve to know?"

Wes shrugged as best he could with his arms tied up.

"That's pretty low." Angel leaned far over the man, their bodies softly brushing. "You're a naughty boy, aren't you, Wes?"

Instead of getting nervous or ashamed, Wes actually just laughed. "I suppose I am."

"You sound proud."

Wes gave him a rather cheeky smirk, and Angel kissed him. He slid Wes' arms free of the belt, and they embraced.

"It's because of you," Wes murmured. He drew back a moment to touch Angel's face. "Your fault. You've corrupted me."

Angel smiled, though his mind unwillingly flew back a hundred years.

_"What's this horror? The curse do away with your common sense, you sod? You taught me, after all, Sire."_

"I tend to have that effect on people," Angel said with a sigh. "Just don't change too much, Wes."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean--" Angel flipped him onto his stomach, gave his bottom a lighter slap. "--if you get completely out of control--" Another. "--I'll have to reign you in."

"Believe me, I'm not going to become a wild sex god overnight," Wes chuckled. "Ow! That stings!"

_So much for breaking it off,_ Wes thought with a little smile as Angel kissed him, bit his thigh. _I will. I swear, I will . . . eventually . . . _

_I really will._

**

* * *

**

_And oh, oh, how could you do it?  
Oh I, I never saw it coming.  
And oh, oh, I need the ending.  
So why can't you stay just long enough to explain?_

_Take your time.  
Take my time._

**Epilogue**

It rained again in LA, some weeks later. This time, Angel and Wesley watched it from Cordelia's apartment. Wes was sitting down on the sofa, still aching and worn out from nearly dying in the explosion that destroyed their offices and forced them to intrude on Cordy. Angel was standing by the window, gazing out wordlessly at the wet evening. Cordelia was out on a date, having bounced back pretty well after being mentally tortured by a demon.

"There won't be any sneaking around here, will there?" Angel remarked suddenly.

Wes looked up in surprise. Besides a small kiss on the forehead during his stay in the hospital, Angel had not mentioned their affair at all until now. Now that he had, Wes lay back down in exhausted anguish: there would be no avoiding the inevitable conversation now.

"About that . . . um, Angel . . . I . . . "

"You don't have to say it." Angel turned from the window and knelt beside the sofa. "I can sense these things, can't I?"

Wes' face fell. "Oh, Angel, I . . . I'm so--"

"Shh." Angel touched a finger to the man's lips. "Don't apologize," he said sternly. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I suppose not, but I feel awful all the same," Wes replied. He sat up, taking Angel's face in his hands. "You've been so good to me, Angel, much more than I deserved. I feel like . . . like rubbish, to be . . ."

"What did I say? No apologies."

Angel sat on the sofa, and lay Wes back down. Wes leaned his head on the man's shoulder, enjoying one last moment in his arms. The silence stretched on, and he almost wished it would never end.

But it had to.

"Lying in that bed, I realized what I want from life," Wesley explained quietly. "I want love. Cliche, silly, overly sentimental, I know. I don't care. And while we do have some sort of love, I think, it isn't . . . it can never be . . . "

"True love."

"For a myriad of reasons, am I right?"

Angel nodded.

"Least of all the fact that I want a woman," Wesley said. "I looked out at the chair beside that bed and I thought . . . I thought of . . . of having a pretty girl worried about me. A . . . a wife, perhaps. I've always wanted to be married, more than anything."

_So have I,_ Angel thought, though he kept his miserable little thought to himself.

"You're too easy to be with, and it's only going to make that impossible," Wesley said. He sat up to face Angel. "Because I could love you. I could very easily fall in love with you, Angel."

Angel smiled at him. He wondered if he could ever fall in love with this one, but could not discern an answer. Maybe he just could, judging by how this little break-up was hurting more than he ever would have expected it to.

"In another time and place, I . . . would have been very happy with you," Wes said. He shook his head, trying to keep the unexpected tears that had formed in his eyes from falling. He swallowed, then went on, "Oh, it's a lie. I don't want just a woman. Just a wife. I want . . . a partner, for life . . . true love. Gender doesn't matter. I-I **would have** been happy with you."

"Wes--"

Angel touched his face, but Wes just smiled at him. "I'm not going to cry," he said certainly. He laughed a little. "I'm not going to get angry, either. Put simply, I won't get all 'Buffy' on you."

Angel cracked a smile.

"It isn't as tragic as all that," Wes said. "I will . . . I will miss this, however. I will miss you."

"Hey, if you ever go on too many lame dates or just need me, I'll still be there."

"I know." Wes put a hand on Angel's, which had clamped onto his shoulder. "I appreciate it. But . . . I . . . " He drew a breath. "I won't need you. Not in that way. Not anymore."

Angel nodded. It did not show on his face, he would not let it, but he was sorry. He was sorry it had to be cut short. _I will miss him,_ he thought. _His easygoing nature, the fun sex, and . . . the way he cried in my arms . . . Human emotion. I had forgotten what it's like to feel it right there in your grasp, have a pulse running against your skin . . . Maybe I have been alone too long. I'd never give him the guilt, but I am going to feel lonely, again, without it._

"You don't seem to care!"

"I'm happy for you, Wes," Angel told him, forgoing to mention his conflicted emotions. "That's all."

"O-oh." Wes flushed sheepishly. "Sorry."

"You'll always be cute when you're flustered."

Angel leaned closer on the sofa and kissed him. Wes leaned in hard, but did not fight it when it ended. They shared one last intimate look . . .

. . . and then the door opened.

The two jumped far apart. Angel moved so fast that Wes didn't even _see_ him until he was standing like a statue at the window again.

"What a jerk!" Cordy was complaining. "He takes the umbrella for himself to protect his new haircut, and he wants to actually split the bill! What am I, a sugar . . . mommy, or whatever it's called? Ugh! No more actors!"

"I take it it went badly," Wes remarked.

Cordy gave him an annoyed look. "Duh." She gave Wes a little cold smile. "At least he was a great kisser."

Wes and Angel shared a glance behind her back, saying nothing.

_Yes, at least he was,_ Wes thought.

"We take what we can get, don't we?" he called after Cordy.

"Again," Cordelia said, poking her head in from her bedroom, "duh!"

Angel was staring out the window, but listening with a bemused smile. _And those two thought I needed a hobby or a reason to live,_ he mused. _I wonder if they get it?_

_**This** is my reason to live._

_. . ._

_Well, as close to 'living' as a vampire can get, anyway._

**- End -**

_And when it rains,  
On this side of town it touches, everything.  
Just say it again and mean it.  
We don't miss a thing.  
You made yourself a bed  
At the bottom of the blackest hole (blackest hole)  
And convinced yourself that  
It's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore_

_And oh, oh, how could you do it?  
Oh I, I never saw it coming.  
Oh, oh, I need the ending.  
So why can't you stay  
Just long enough to explain?_

_And when it rains,  
Will you always find an escape?  
Just running away,  
From all of the ones who love you,  
From everything.  
You made yourself a bed  
At the bottom of the blackest hole (blackest hole)  
And you'll sleep 'til May  
And you'll say that you don't want to see the sun anymore_

_And oh, oh, how could you do it?  
Oh I, I never saw it coming.  
And oh, oh, I need the ending.  
So why can't you stay just long enough to explain?_

_Take your time.  
Take my time._

_Take these chances to turn it around. (take your time)  
Take these chances, we'll make it somehow  
And take these chances to turn it around. (take my...)  
Just turn it around._

_Oh, how could you do it?  
Oh I, I never saw it coming.  
Oh, oh, how could you do it?  
Oh I, I never saw it coming.  
Oh, oh, how could you do it?  
Oh I, I never saw it coming.  
Oh, oh I need an ending.  
So why can't you stay  
Just long enough to explain?_

_You can take your time, take my time_

-- Paramore


End file.
